


ordinance

by waveridden



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Blaseball Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Kingdom Game (COUNTER/Weight), Season: COUNTER/Weight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 06:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30118635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveridden/pseuds/waveridden
Summary: ordinance:noun. a rule or decree; an inevitability.The Kingdom Cavaliers are not a good team. They are, however, tenacious as shit, which is something of a point of pride. (Or, a Blaseball AU.)
Relationships: Tea Kenridge & Jace Rethal, implied Addax Dawn/Jace Rethal
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	ordinance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalcifer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalcifer/gifts).



> I wrote this as a charity commission for Kalcifer, who wanted a Kingdom Game Blaseball AU, because at least this way they get to play a fun game while they're tied up in a life-or-death moral-bending situation. This prompt was a delight, thank you!
> 
> If you're not familiar with Blaseball, it's really just fucked-up baseball, where sometimes players switch teams mid-game (this is called feedback), fans vote for blessings that change players' abilities or team rosters, and occasionally teams fight god. Yknow, normal sports.

“Jace,” Tea says. She’s standing by the fence watching him, has been for a while. He hasn’t bothered to say anything to her. Tea makes herself known when she wants to be known. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Jace winds up and pitches, the ball shooting out towards home plate. It’s fast, not fast enough. “It’ll be better tomorrow.”

“I’m worried about today,” Tea snaps. “The season starts tomorrow, this is your last chance for a night off.”

“We always have to play,” Jace answers. His arm hurts, pain lancing from shoulder to elbow as he picks up the next ball. Blaseball means he’ll be fine tomorrow, won’t even need to ice it. He was a normal pitcher once upon a time, until a blessing overwrote him into a legend, something too big for his body. Half his skill was earned and the other half was a gift and he’s not sure where he ends and the blessing begins.

Tea’s still watching. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“You don’t know—”

“I do.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“Jace,” says Tea, and it’s not the frustration or even the worry and sadness that gets him to look over at her. It’s how tired she sounds. “Come with me. Get some rest.”

He goes. It helps, and also doesn’t.

  
  


#

  
  


The Kingdom Cavaliers are not a good team. They are, however, tenacious as shit, which is something of a point of pride for Orth. They have set records on every possible part of the spectrum, good and bad and completely neutral. They are not a good team, but they are a noteworthy team.

“We’re having a good season,” Natalya says. She’s been spending a lot of time with him, strategizing. If it were anyone else Orth would be suspicious, but Natalya seems to enjoy the strategy more than the actual game. She’s one of their worst batters.

He worries about her, sometimes. If the fans decide that they want her gone, they can make that happen, and Orth can’t help it. Sharp-eyed Natalya is the only reason the Cavaliers aren’t a bad team — well, her and him, but he’ll share the credit.

“We’ve been having a lot of good seasons,” Orth answers. “What do you think our odds are?”

She smiles faintly. “Better than they’ve been lately.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

Orth hums under his breath. “We’ll see,” he says. It’s about as hopeful as he can afford to be right now, but he’d like to think that a little hope will do a body good.

  
  


#

  
  


Once upon a time teams used to get along and trust one another. Sokrates remembers when feedback was a novelty, and the first priority was getting your new teammate settled. They had a couple on Apostolos, and Sokrates was a goddamn gift at getting people used to the change.

The Cavaliers don’t like Sokrates, though. They think it’s one part because of who they’re replacing and about, oh, ten thousand parts because they’re from Apostolos. So it’s been rough. Orth’s cool, a couple of the others are okay, but the team has made it clear that there’s an in-group and an out-group, and Sokrates knows exactly what group they’re on.

All this to say, when the Cavaliers get hit by feedback again, their feelings are decidedly mixed. Natalya getting zapped to another team sucks. Sokrates’s heart goes out to her and if it were anyone else, their heart would go out to the new guy too.

But it’s Attar Rose. You know, the Ibex. You know, the fan favorite because he’s specifically fucking evil, and made deals with the gods, and survived where a lot of other people didn’t.

“Addax,” Sokrates says, voice low. “We can’t keep this guy on the team.”

Addax gives them a strange look. “That’s not how this works. We don’t get to decide.”

“Can’t we campaign to get rid of him?”

“Blessings are random, it won’t matter.”

“Yeah, but—” Sokrates looks over at Ibex, who is definitely, absolutely staring at them, and wow, Sokrates doesn’t like that one bit. “That guy?”

Addax worries his lip between his teeth for a split second, but then shakes his head. “We can’t just get rid of people we don’t like.”

“This isn’t about liking,” Sokrates starts, but Addax is already turning away, a convenient reminder that they’re still in the middle of a game.

Ibex is still watching. Sokrates makes a face at him. It doesn’t do much, but it feels better.

  
  


#

  
  


Insinuating himself is as easy as this:

“I’ve heard Natalya Greaves helped with your strategy,” Ibex says. “I’d like to offer my services to help fill that gap.”

Orth lets out a massive, relieved sigh. “Okay,” he says, “thank you,” and Ibex almost feels bad for him.

  
  


#

  
  


The day the Cavaliers make the playoffs, Jace vanishes from the celebration party.

Addax finds him outside, sitting on the ground, back against the wall. He doesn’t react as Addax slides down to sit next to him. There are questions Addax could ask, but he decides not to, at least not yet.

After a handful of minutes in silence, Jace says, “I’m celebrating.”

“I can tell,” Addax answers tonelessly. Jace doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t tell Addax to fuck off either, so that counts as a win. “You’ve been in the playoffs before.”

“But that was different.”

“Was it?”

Jace finally looks at him, gaze searching. “You’re telling me you don’t think there’s something… happening? Something special?”

Addax frowns. “Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“Special doesn’t always mean good.”

“I guess not.”

“I know not,” Jace mumbles, so softly that Addax feels like he’s eavesdropping.

Addax takes a breath. “I can leave.”

“Don’t.” A beat, then, “Please.”

Addax doesn’t leave. The conversation stumbles through peaks and lulls, tripping over itself as though conversation ever has a destination or a landing point. And Addax doesn’t leave.

He thinks that’s a good thing. He thinks Jace thinks that’s a good thing, which is more important.

  
  


#

  
  


“Orth is spending a lot of time with Ibex,” Natalya says. It is as neutral a sentence as she can make it, an observation free of judgment.

Sokrates and Addax exchange a look, which she doesn’t like. At last Addax says, “Ibex is helping him strategize.”

Natalya frowns. “Is it helping?”

“We made the playoffs, but—”

“I don’t trust him,” Sokrates says flatly. “I think he’s full of shit, I think he’s been at the center of too much weird bullshit for us to ignore, and I don’t like that the first thing he did was start whispering in our captain’s ear.”

Natalya’s been doing her best to talk to Orth, but she has a new team now — a new, much worse team to worry about. Ibex had been the head, heart, and soul of their strategy, and Natalya can’t do all of that at once, let alone keep helping Orth.

But Sokrates is right. Too many teams that Ibex has been on have won and then fallen apart. Too many strange things have happened.

“Be careful,” Natalya says, a futile hope. Blaseball doesn’t care about caution. It doesn’t care about any of them.

  
  


#

  
  


The Cavaliers make the finals.

Nobody expected it, least of all Tea — look, she’s a good batter, but they’re not a team that makes the finals. They’re not supposed to be this good. Not even with Ibex tweaking and optimizing their batting, not even with Jace dislocating his shoulder every other time he pitches. They’ve never been this good.

They sweep the finals, too, and Tea is smart enough to be afraid of what that means. Jace is pitching, Jace the legend, Jace the golden boy, and it’s a shutout, and it’s supposed to be fantastic, it’s supposed to be a crowning fucking achievement.

Instead the skies go dark. They all stop and look up at the sky, trying to understand. Tea thinks of Natalya in the stands. She thinks of Jace, still on the mound. She thinks of how she doesn’t want to play another game.

Something is coming down from the sky. When she turns to look, she sees Ibex grinning like a madman.

Tea shifts her grip on her bat. Once they make it through this, she’s going to smash his face in. They just have to make it through this first.

  
  


#

  
  


They lose.

  
  


#

  
  


“Jace,” Tea says. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Jace says. He doesn’t look away.

“Yeah, last season, but—”

“No, Tea, I think we’ve had this conversation before.”

A pause, then: “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know.” Jace winds up, pitches, winds up, pitches. “I don’t know. I just don’t want this to happen again.”

“Want what?”

Jace turns and looks at her. She stares back, brows furrowed, something like concern playing around her mouth.

“Jace,” she says, quietly, more coaxing. “Stop this. Come with me, it’s our last day before the season starts again.”

“I can’t,” Jace says. He’s sorry, he is, but he went with her last time. Last season? Last time? It doesn’t matter if this is a new season or an old season again. He can barely tell anymore, the difference between momentum and running in circles. “I can’t. We have to win it right this time.”

Tea leaves eventually. He wishes she hadn’t. But he understands.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @waveridden on Tumblr, Twitter, and occasionally the Blaseball maincord if you want to say hi!


End file.
